The Pact E-Book

Christian Marshall

• Herausgeber: Lübbe
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Beschreibung

NBS agents are trained for one purpose: bringing down The Syndicate, an international crime organization aimed at profiteering by keeping countries at war with one another.
When an NBS agent is murdered shortly before her first assignment, five new recruits quickly realize the agency they’re working for may not be as trustworthy as it seems, forcing them to make a pact in order to survive.

Can the new agents stay alive long enough to uncover the truth behind their fellow recruit’s death? Or is finding answers hidden deep within both organizations tempting enough to make one of them break the pact?

About the Author
Christian Liberty Marshall is an Austrian-based writer, and musician with degrees from Vanderbilt University, and University of Music and Performing Arts Graz. When not performing as a violist, he can be found teaching at the Popakademie Baden-Württemberg, writing educational material for children, or translating German literature.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

The Pact

About the Author

List of Main Characters

Title

Copyright

Episode 1: Recruit

Episode 2: Uncover

Episode 3: Divert

Episode 4: Persuade

Episode 5: Deceive

Episode 6: Resist

Episode 7: Escape

Episode 8: Reveal

The Pact

NBS agents are trained for one purpose: bringing down The Syndicate, an international crime organization aimed at profiteering by keeping countries at war with one another.

When an NBS agent is murdered shortly before her first assignment, five new recruits quickly realize the agency they’re working for may not be as trustworthy as it seems, forcing them to make a pact in order to survive.

Can the new agents stay alive long enough to uncover the truth behind their fellow recruit’s death? Or is finding answers hidden deep within both organizations tempting enough to make one of them break the pact?

About the Author

Christian Liberty Marshall is an Austrian-based writer, and musician with degrees from Vanderbilt University, and University of Music and Performing Arts Graz. When not performing as a violist, he can be found teaching at the Popakademie Baden-Württemberg, writing educational material for children, or translating German literature. His first serial novel, The Pact, is available in summer 2015.

List of Main Characters

Eliska Novak has gone from dirt poor to filthy rich. Or at least that’s what she thinks. Being a high-class escort in Manhattan has afforded her many pleasures, those she’d only dreamt of as a child on the streets of Prague. But will the allure of freedom be strong enough for her to pursue a career as an NBS agent?

Paul Leclerc loves life aboard a ship. But he also loves Scotch. That’s why he chose to leave his life at sea and open up a bar in his hometown, Marseilles. Yet he’s rarely in one place for long, always travelling the globe looking for new spirits to bring back to the port city. But is there another reason this Frenchman pulls his disappearing acts?

Jian Zhang doesn’t remember much about life in China’s Guangzhou. That’s why he decided to stay in New York City, to run his family’s dumpling dynasty after his parents returned home. There’s also his wife, Agnieszka, and their hopes of starting a family. Will their love for the arts—and each other—be Jian’s moral compass? Or will shocking discoveries force him to act against his nature?

An introverted coder, Swedish-born Dr. Leah Carlsson hates getting close to anyone—be it as a member of a team or on the receiving end of a handshake. Her years of hard work have earned her a full professorship at the University of Stockholm. Upon learning her work has been compromised, she must decide if she’s willing to risk her reputation to step out from behind the walls she’s built—both around herself and in her field.

Originally from New York City, Nicholas Clark is a detective now in Cape Town, South Africa. After his fiancé’s tragic death, Nick loses himself in his police work. But ousting crooked cops and putting criminals behind bars can only numb the pain for so long. Will the opportunity to play a part in a secret agency give him the new purpose he’s been looking for?

Felicity Wilson may call Los Angeles home, but her roots are solidly in the Midwest. Fresh out of graduate school, she’s convinced all her friends and family into believing she’s ambitiously pursuing a career in politics. But what she’s secretly looking for is the answer to a question haunting her since childhood. The startling revelations she’s about to uncover will lead her to risk her life for the truth.

Christian Liberty Marshall

A Deadly Game of Espionage

BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

Digital original edition

Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

Copyright © 2016 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

Originally published as a digital series consisting of 8 parts

Copyright © 2015 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

Written by Christian Liberty Marshall

Edited by Gail Werner

Project management: Lori Herber, Julia Hubschmid, Kathrin Kummer

Cover illustration: © shutterstock: Captblack76 | Anna Omelchenko | MIKHAIL GRACHIKOV | fluke samed | Casther | Melkor3D

Cover design: © Frank & Reed, Stuttgart

eBook production: Urban SatzKonzept, Düsseldorf

ISBN 978-3-7325-3364-0

www.bastei-entertainment.com

Christian Liberty Marshall

Episode 1: Recruit

 

Eliska Novak put out her cigarette and sat up in bed, silently placing her feet on the floor. Sliding her hand under the bed sheet, she pulled out her bra and slipped it on. The man next to her was still asleep and she was hoping for a painless exit. Eliska had worked her way up the social ladder, and though most of her clientele had some sense of decency, there was the occasional bastard who couldn’t be turned down. The finer things, she thought. The finer things make it worth it. Five-star hotels, private jets, cocktails with celebrities, even dining with foreign ministers. All she had to do was be a pretty face—beautiful enough to be noticed, but plain enough to be forgotten. No one seemed to care when she disappeared from home, so why should she?

She walked across the room, picked up the black dress draped over the back of the chair and stepped into it. She pulled her long dark brown hair into a ponytail before wrapping it in a tight bun. She had twelve hours left until her flight. Plenty of time to get cleaned up, grab something to eat, do some shopping, and tie up loose ends. She was ready to disappear for a while. As she picked up her purse, a small, brown envelope fell from the table.

The man in bed rolled over. He murmured, slurring his words: “Eliza, m’dear …”

Eliska held still until his breathing returned to normal, then checked the envelope. 10,000 US dollars, as promised. She placed it in her purse and slipped quietly out of the room.

***

“Scotch and soda, please.”

“You’ve got it.”

Paul Leclerc placed his rucksack on the barstool next to him and pulled out a postcard and pen. When he was sixteen years old, he made his sister Claire a promise to send her postcards from every city he visited. He was proud to have kept that promise for ten years now.

“Here you go,” the bartender said. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s fine. Thanks.”

Paul sipped his drink of choice and thought about Claire. He was looking forward to seeing her again. He was born in Marseille and grew up there until he was old enough to start working on some of the local ships at the harbor. His pleasant disposition and brilliant memory, especially for remembering people, made him an all-around likable guy, earning him the nickname “Names and Faces.” His memory also came in handy when gambling on the ships, something he’d taken advantage of on more than one occasion. He knew how often to win and lose, managing to stay under the radar while saving enough money to open his own bar back home in Marseilles. A couple of times a year he travelled to different cities around the world, looking for small distilleries with unique flavors to bring home to his bar. He was ready to get back there soon. He signed the card, finished his drink, and stood.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked, pulling several bills from his pocket.

“Six-fifty,” the bartender replied.

Paul placed the money on the bar. “Is there a post office around here?”

“There’s a mailbox around the corner.”

“Great, thanks.” Paul gave the bartender a kind smile and walked out the door.

***

Jian Zhang had dreamt of the painting in front of him so many times he could hardly believe he was standing in front of the real thing. But he was. And he was in awe.

“It’s quite special, isn’t it?” Agnieszka asked, her face beaming with delight.

Special was an understatement. He had rarely seen light depicted so gloriously. The painting seemed to swallow him completely.

“How did you manage to get ahold of it?” Jian asked, still dumbfounded. He knew his wife was a well-respected art dealer, but even he thought this acquisition was slightly out of her league.

“It’s on its way to London,” she said. “We are on our way to London!”

Jian kept his voice calm. “What do you mean we?”

“It’s going to be showcased at a temporary exhibit and I got a call this morning asking if I could accompany it. Apparently the client’s first choice backed out and they need someone immediately. I called Hai and he can take care of the office while you’re gone.”

This news made Jian feel sick to his stomach. He’d taken over his parents’ restaurant business when they decided to move back to Guangzhou, causing his cousin Hai to feel slighted, making the rivalry between them even worse.

“This is an amazing opportunity and I know you wouldn’t want to miss it. Plus, they’ve offered to cover both of our expenses. I can’t turn it down. We can’t turn it down.”

Jian knew she was right. He loved art as much as she did, if not more. It’d come as no surprise he’d met his wife in an art gallery. She’d just finished school and was working at her first serious job. When she caught Jian standing too close to a Vermeer and asked him to step away, he looked into her eyes and explained how the light represented mortality and being as close to it as possible reminded him to look at each situation as if it were fleeting. Agnieszka remained silent, but her smile told him he was a man she wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

“How long is the exhibition?” Jian asked.

“Just two weeks,” she replied.

Jian could tell there was no talking her out of it.

“We can be on the next flight in five hours,” she added. “They’ve already booked our flights.”

“Okay,” he said, feeling only slightly relieved. “Let’s go.”

***

“Thank you so much for your visit. It was wonderful to have you here,” Dr. Willis said, stretching out his hand.

Leah Carlsson wasn’t a fan of handshakes and tried making goodbyes as short as possible. “My pleasure,” she replied, clutching her suitcase and binder, making her hands appear more full than they were.

“You know, Dr. Carlsson, your lectures are always well attended. If you’re interested in some guest teaching, as department head I’m sure I could …”

“Thank you,” Leah said, cutting him off, “but I’m quite busy with several projects of my own at the moment.”

“Developing another code?” he asked.

“Something like that.” Good Lord, she thought, can’t this guy take a hint?

“It must be brilliant if it’s coming from a mind like yours.”

Leah had to put in a conscious effort to make sure her upper lip didn’t rise in disgust. Why did everyone chalk up her success to genius and not hard work? Plus, if anyone took a look at her résumé they would see an impressive list of scholarships and awards. She figured it must be because not many mathematicians receive a full professorship by the age of twenty-eight, especially women. Some of her colleagues at the University of Stockholm assumed it was elitism, that she came from a rich, well-educated family, and there was always somebody to open the right door at the right time. She had gotten better at letting this idea roll off her back, but sometimes it still got to her.

“Check-in’s already started,” she told him, trying to shake him off. “Don’t want to miss my flight.”

“Of course,” Dr. Willis said, hailing Leah a taxi.

Leah smiled politely as he waved good-bye. She was looking forward to returning home soon, to being in the comfort of her own walls and working on building her own environment. That was where she felt most at ease, in a house of codes. She pulled out her phone to check the time and saw a text message from her brother.

Soooo, how was it? Did they offer you a job AND an apartment? Don’t settle for anything less than a penthouse. ;-)

She couldn’t help but smile. She loved her brother and knew he both understood and appreciated her hard work and success and appreciated how she didn’t let it change their relationship.

I told them I’ll think about it. After all, it IS America … ;-) See you soon.

She put her phone back in her pocket and looked out the window.

***

“I’m proud to see how you’re holding up, son. I know it’s been a rough year.”

Nicholas Clark gripped his dad a little tighter, showing his appreciation. He was much better at expressing his feelings physically. Words weren’t his thing. They never had been.

“Let me know when you get home?”

“Sure thing,” Nicholas said.

This exchange had become routine since the first time Nicholas visited his dad back in New York City. His parents had divorced when he was fifteen years old, and though the courts had granted his mom custody, allowing them to move to Cape Town, he was still required to spend holidays with his dad. He didn’t mind spending summers in the city and hanging out with his old friends. The visits got shorter once he became a legal adult and joined the police force, but he still managed to see his dad at least once every year.

Nick grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and set it on the curb. He gave his dad a farewell salute, turned around, and made his way inside to the check-in counter.

***

Felicity Wilson sat comfortably in 11B, watching the rest of the passengers walk by as they searched for their seats on the plane. She wasn’t the biggest fan of flying, but there was no other way to get to London. She had been invited to an international conference on political health policies, and as a recent college graduate she knew it was where she needed to be to make some new contacts. Her stepfather had been helpful up until now, but she was ready to open some doors on her own.

The amount of passengers walking by was starting to dwindle when someone caught her eye. Three rows ahead of her stood a tall man with tousled, dark brown hair and a three-day beard, stuffing his bag into the overhead compartment. She looked him up and down, admiring his well-shaped physique clearly visible through his high quality, yet casual clothes. Probably European, she thought, trying to imagine what he smelled like. She liked men with a rough allure. More than that she liked the attention she got from such men. Unfortunately for them, she wasn’t so keen on giving it back. She watched as the man took a look around the cabin, failing as he did so to make eye contact with her. Dammit. She watched as he took his seat then called for the flight attendant.

“Yes, sir?” the flight attendant asked.

“A scotch and soda please?” the man said.

“Sorry, hon,” she replied before reaching up to turn off the call light. “No drinks before takeoff, but I’ll get you once we’re up in the air.”

***

Nick pulled out his noise-cancelling headphones and slid his leather bag under the seat in front of him. The headphones were an anniversary gift from Myra. Nick had only complained once in their relationship, and it was about her snoring. She gave them to him as a way to apologize, but also to show him she understood that silence was important to him. It was the only thing that let his mind relax enough to allow answers to come to the surface. He always tried falling asleep before the plane took off and listening to music or watching one of his favorite movies on his laptop usually helped. He tapped on the screen in front of him but it didn’t respond. Oh well, he thought. I can make do without. He fastened his seatbelt and settled back into his seat. He had barely closed his eyes before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Nick opened his eyes and saw a flight attendant standing to his left. “Here you go, sir. Several of the in-flight monitors aren’t working. You may use this at any time,” she said, handing him a thin tablet. “Enjoy your flight.”

“Thanks,” Nick said as he took the tablet. He rested it on his lap and looked around. The flight attendant was handing out tablets to several other passengers in the cabin. He picked his back up, plugged in his headphones, and turned it on. A simple menu screen listed his options: movies, music, books, magazines, duty-free shopping. The usual, he thought. He scrolled through his movie choices, found one of his favorites, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and gave it a double tap. He put on his headphones and was listening to the opening theme when the screen suddenly went black. Great. Nick waited a few seconds before tapping the screen again. A small box containing the words “PRESS AND HOLD” came on the screen. Nick held his thumb in the box until it disappeared.

“Identity confirmed, Nicholas Clark.”

The screen was still black and Nick wasn’t sure where the voice had come from. He could tell it wasn’t part of the film and he wasn’t sure if it’d come through his headphones. He looked around, but the neighboring seat was unoccupied and nobody stood in the aisle next to him. The screen turned white and he heard his name again, only this time it appeared on the screen, along with all of his personal statistics: age, height, weight, education, hobbies, job—a complete profile. What the hell, he thought. Where did this come from? He tried turning off the tablet but the screen was frozen.

“Hello, Nicholas. Don’t be alarmed,” a woman’s voice said. “We’ve got an offer for you.”

Still gripping the tablet with both hands, Nick realized he was holding his breath. He tried letting it out silently. He took a look around the cabin but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He didn’t know who she was, or who “they” were, and he certainly didn’t like the fact they knew so much about him and had somehow located him on a flight. He was thinking about what to do next when she spoke again.

“We’ve had our eyes on you for a while; both your skill set and situation are rather unique. You’ve managed to climb the ranks as a detective quite quickly for a man of your age. But we also know you’re looking for more than that. We can give you what you’re looking for. We want you to join us in making the world a better place.”

***

“We want you to join us in making the world a better place.”

Leah’s stomach tightened. She didn’t want to save the world — at least not since she had been a girl of six. And the idea of being someone’s asset didn’t sit well with her either. How did they manage to gather this much information on her? She knew whatever intelligence program was able to locate her on an airplane midflight and contact her in real-time was serious, and she certainly didn’t want to get involved. She felt her heart beating out of her chest. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and listened to the voice.

“NBS — The Nations’ Bureau of Security — is an international secret service organization dedicated to bringing down an international terror organization known as The Syndicate. Your skill set is invaluable to us, especially in light of recent events. The Syndicate has somehow gotten ahold of your work and taken it up a notch. Once your plane reaches Heathrow, take a taxi to Baskerville Café. You’ll be picked up at 11:00 a.m.”

The thoughts in her head grew louder as she tried making sense of her current situation. She pinched her eyes shut and concentrated on the blackness until her heart rate returned to normal.

***

“We want you to join us in making the world a better place.”

Eliska exited the terminal quickly, her mind still reeling. She wasn’t sure what to do with all the new information she’d been given and her mind couldn’t process it quickly enough. The voice had told her some of her clients were involved with organized crime. She didn’t want to think about it; she didn’t need to make matters worse for herself.

After exchanging some of her cash for pounds, she made her way to the restroom. She took the first empty stall and locked it behind her. From her bag she pulled out a pair of sunglasses, a blonde wig, and a jacket. Still intent on disappearing, she wanted to remain neutral. She heard the restroom door open, followed shortly by the sound of running water. She flushed the toilet and exited the stall. She made her way over to the sink and turned on the faucet, avoiding eye contact with the woman standing next to her. Eliska could tell the woman was staring at her reflection in the mirror.

“Some things aren’t easily disguised, Miss Fawn.”

Eliska’s heart skipped a beat.

“Or should I rather call you Novak?”

When the words registered with her, she belatedly realized that they had been spoken in Czech. Eliska hadn’t been addressed in this language in years.

“Excuse me?” Eliska’s throat tightened and she could barely get the words out of her mouth.

The woman smoothly switched back to English. “I can see you’re planning to run, but I’m afraid it’s in the wrong direction.” Her eyes were fixed on Eliska. “I hope you’ve not decided to turn down our job offer so quickly. You’d make a fine recruit,” she said, giving her an expectant glance.

Eliska couldn’t mistake the coolness in the woman’s tone, but it didn’t scare her. She knew this person was serious but she still couldn’t comprehend the extent of the situation. Eliska remained silent.

“There’s a car waiting outside for us. I suggest you come with me. If you don’t, we can no longer offer you any protection.”

No longer? she thought. Since when have they been offering her protection — and from whom? Eliska had survived the streets of New York since the age of seven, where she’d certainly experienced a lack of protection. She turned off the faucet and faced the woman. “Are you going to tell me exactly what’s going on?”

“Your questions will be answered soon enough. Let’s go. The car is waiting,” the woman replied.

***

“We want you to join us in making the world a better place.”

Jian sat still in the back seat of a taxi, wondering exactly why they wanted him — and why he had so easily complied with their demands. What about Agnieszka? They had been quite firm in that he should keep it a secret from his wife. He’d not had a problem keeping secrets from her before, but he didn’t like having to lie to her outright. He listened to the rain beat down on the windshield.

Agnieszka had repeated his name several times before he registered she was talking to him. “Jian? Jian?”

“Sorry, I was a bit distracted.”

“Come on, Jian. Calm down. We’re in London now. You can rest a bit at the hotel while I head over to the gallery. They’re expecting me at once.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Jian asked, already knowing her answer.

“No, it’s alright, you can get some rest. I was able to sleep enough on the plane.”

Jian was thankful for that. He had listened to the voice intently and had memorized the instructions. He was to be picked up outside the Darlington House at 11:00 a.m. and taken to NBS headquarters.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you in the evening then?”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem keeping yourself busy while I’m at the gallery.”

Jian smiled, kissing his wife on the cheek as they pulled up to their hotel.

“Here we are,” the driver said, putting the vehicle into park. “That’ll be forty-two pounds, please.”

“Thank you very much,” Jian said. He gave the man a fifty pound note and let him keep the change.

“Enjoy your stay and try to keep out of the rain!” the cabby said, shooting Jian a friendly grin.

“Will do, will do.” Jian opened his umbrella, holding it above Agnieszka’s head as they entered the hotel.

***

Why the hell isn’t he answering his phone? Leah thought as she wrote her brother another text message.

Call me asap. Something’s come up. I’m not sure when I’m going to make it back home.

Leah’s brother was also her best friend. He was four years older than her but they had always passed for twins. She told him everything. Almost everything. But that was the point. She didn’t need to tell him everything for him to understand. He always knew how to comfort her when she was being too hard on herself and he never let her disappear for too long. If a couple of weeks went by without contact he never failed to check in on her. Now she was the one freaking out, unable to get into contact with him.

She dialed again but got his voicemail.

“You’ve reached Erik Carlsson. Please leave your name …” She hung up before hearing the beep. She’d already left him three messages.

Leah glanced at her watch; it was two minutes to eleven. She put her phone in her bag and glanced out the window, watching as a vehicle approached the curb. Just like the voice said, she thought. She had been instructed to leave the airport and go to a café in central London where she would be picked up promptly at 11:00 a.m. She stood from her chair and put on her raincoat. As she approached the black sedan, its rear door opened. Out stepped a man in a finely tailored suit. His physique was impressive for his age, but his heavy brow and jowls hinted at years of stress.

“Dr. Carlsson, please,” the man said, gesturing for her to get into the vehicle. He closed the door behind her and entered from the other side.

“Where are you taking me?” Leah asked. She hated feeling out control, and knowing so little about what was going on was making things worse.

“I’m sure this must come as quite a surprise,” he replied, “but I can assure you we have your best interest in mind.”

“Where are you taking me?” Leah repeated.

“We’re going to our headquarters. You’ll receive a full debriefing and meet the other members of your team.”

“My team? What do you mean, my team?”

“All agents are highly skilled individuals, working undercover around the world. Many assignments have them working in teams. You are being recruited along with five others. You will meet them shortly.”

“What I still don’t get is what’s in it for me. I’ve got a well-paid and quite rewarding job in Stockholm, and an academic career to follow. I like my life quite the way it is, not to mention the privacy it affords me. What advantage do you have to offer?”

“Your life isn’t as private as you may think. You’ve designed security networks for major corporations all around the world. Your code work is some of the best we’ve seen. That was until recently, when some cyber terrorists connected with that organization we told you about — The Syndicate — started copying it, taking it up a notch. So they are now well ahead of the Law in terms of security.”

Leah felt anger and disgust swell inside her. She knew the undercover world of hackers was full of brilliant minds, full of ideas far beyond her abilities. She also knew that it was dangerous. She’d decided early on to stay out of the dark corners of the cyber world. She didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“What makes you think I can do something about it?”

“Well, it’s your brainchild. You know it better than anyone else.”

“So I crack the code, get you access to their system, and then I get to go home? That’s it? It’s that simple?”

He chose silence to do the talking for him. Finally, he said, “We’re almost there now. Agent Sullivan will be able to fill you in on the rest of the details.”

Leah glanced at her phone — still no word from her brother. That’s so unlike him, she thought. He always answered her calls. She was replaying their last conversation in her mind when she noticed the car pulling into a parking garage. The driver drove to the bottom level and pulled up to a large metal door. Rolling down his window, he scanned his ID and, at the prompt, entered a code for the door to open. Once inside, he parked the car. Leah’s door opened and she looked up to see a woman holding out her hand. Not another handshake, she thought.

“Dr. Carlsson,” the woman said, “welcome to NBS”

***

The fluorescent light glaring off the pale walls made Paul’s skin crawl. He preferred being outdoors and hated the idea of being several floors below ground level. The hallway was long and low, lined with thick metal doors. Paul followed the agent in front of him until they reached the end of the corridor. They stopped at a thick, metal door where the agent scanned a card and entered several numbers before the door slid open to reveal an operations room filled with screens, computers, and other high-tech devices. Seated around a large conference table were five other young individuals and one older man, perhaps twice Paul’s age, standing before it. Paul entered the room and could feel the tension immediately. I guess I’m not the only one, he thought. The man stuck out his hand, motioning Paul to take a seat at the table.

Paul’s eyes scanned the others and noticed the dark-skinned man right away, his muscular upper body propped up by elbows on the table. He shot Paul a quick glance and then directed his eyes back to the man in the suit. Next to him was a tall, slender woman, perhaps an inch shorter than Paul. He gave her a smile but she remained cool. He took his seat to the right of a woman who wore her long, blonde hair in a simple braid. He turned to see her stunning profile; the look of despondency on her face told him she wasn’t going to be very communicative. The man in the suit cleared his throat and began to speak.

“I’m station chief Agent Sullivan. Welcome to NBS London.” Agent Sullivan let his eyes momentarily rest on each of them seated at the table. “You’ve all been brought here today,” he continued, “because of what you do and who you are. You are all, in fact, quite interesting people.” He removed the first folder off of a small stack.

“Nicholas Clark. Twenty-seven years old. Detective based in Cape Town, South Africa. Known as the human polygraph.”

Waiting to find out exactly who was recruiting him, Nick had been on edge the entire time since he sat down. Agent Sullivan’s introduction was not what he wanted to hear.

“Listen up. I’m not interested in playing any ice-breaker games. You know about me already. I want to know about you.” Nick tried to sounding earnest, knowing a threat wouldn’t get him anywhere.

Agent Sullivan shot Nick him a harsh look. “I’ve already told you my name; you will learn all you need to know in due course. Just be patient.”

As a detective Nick had developed a sixth sense for people who habitually evaded or ignored questions. This Agent Sullivan was a tough nut to crack.

“After leading impressive interrogations, Nicholas, you managed to shut down several small crime rings in Cape Town. You also ousted a couple crooked cops, but that didn’t help your popularity much, did it? Nevertheless, you were promoted to detective and have continued to be successful. You lost your fiancé last winter, but you’ve managed to maintain your balance.”

Nick went blue. That bastard, he thought, suddenly angry. Myra had become his life. What did this guy know about his “balance?” When Myra died he’d felt like the entire world had fallen out from under him. From that moment on he had committed himself to his career in the police force. Agent Sullivan continued with his introductions, seemingly unaware of Nick’s reaction to his words.

“The Syndicate, the terror organization we told you about, has set up a branch in Cape Town. They’re using it as a weapons compound as well as a facility where their agents can go off grid for a while. With your contacts, your position there is ideal. They may have even already gotten to some of your colleagues.

Nick’s mind was racing. He had, in fact, invested every ounce of himself in the police force in an effort to put memories of Myra’s death behind him. Climbing the ranks made him feel powerful, and seeing criminals brought to justice made him feel purposeful. But that only served to numb his anguish, and their effect was beginning to wear off. Even trips to visit his father and mandatory grief therapy sessions could only help so much. Joining NBS was beginning to sound like a strong dose of good medicine. He knew that the opportunity to move back with a powerful organization under his belt would give him a different sort of chance to put his bad memories behind. As he tried picturing this new life in Cape Town, Agent Sullivan moved on.

“Eliza Fawn. Or rather Eliska Novak. Twenty-eight years old. Originally from Prague. Brought to the U.S. at the age of seven. Grew up on the streets of New York City. Works as a social companion for high-class customers. Most of her clients are billionaires.”

“Is that all that your file says about me?” Eliska asked. She had read through enough of her profile on the tablet to know they had gathered an impressive amount of information on her — especially her list of clients.

“If you’re referring to the exact services you offer, yes, those are listed as well. But we don’t need to get into that now, do we?”

Eliska’s lips tightened. She kept a close watch on him as he continued.

“Two years ago, however, your clientele changed drastically. Thanks to your boss, a certain Mr. Lennox. Almost all of your regular customers are his friends. He’s even asked you to accompany them overseas on special occasions, allowing you to see an impressive amount of cities in quite a short time. You should also be glad you’ve come back. Mr. Lennox seems to be the head of The Syndicate’s trafficking network. We’re certain that he’s taking orders from somebody, but we’ve been unable to figure out whom. That is an incredibly important piece of information which you could obtain for us, Miss Novak. I know that you are on the run from him. But you know that he will get you sooner or later.”

Eliska’s entire childhood had comprised life-and-death situations. Why should adulthood be any different? She wondered.

“If I’m in such a dangerous situation, why haven’t I been killed yet?” she asked. “What is it that you’re offering me in exchange for my cooperation?”

“A way out of this lifestyle and into one with much more freedom. That’s a start.”

“I was on my way to freedom,” she retorted. “At least for a little bit.”

“They would have found you in Prague. If we know you purchased a ticket, someone in The Syndicate knows too. And whatever freedom you’ve had until now has been an illusion. The eyes of The Syndicate are roaming the city constantly, and if they learn about you, he will, too.”

Eliska didn’t bother replying. She knew what Agent Sullivan said was true. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You’ll go back to New York. They know you have a little bit of money, but they also know it won’t last forever. You’ll go back and say you were on a short holiday, just to refresh your senses.”

As Eliska hesitated, her thoughts were interrupted by an outburst from Felicity.

“And what about me?” Felicity asked. “I’m not involved in organized crime. I never have been.” She had just finished her master’s degree, was about to start a new job, and had been on her way to a conference on health policies. She was clearly living a lifestyle far different than that of Nick, and especially Eliska.

“You, Miss Wilson, have spent more time around The Syndicate than you realize. You practically grew up in its shadow.”

A sickening feeling filled Felicity’s stomach. What Agent Sullivan was about to say would only make it worse.

“Your father deserted your mother when you were two years old and you have no recollection of him. Your mother left everything behind when she took you and moved to Los Angeles.”

Felicity had often begged her mother for information about her father. Anything, even a picture, but there was nothing. Her mother had left everything in Kansas.

“Shortly after arriving in L.A. your mother began working as a secretary for a very important businessman. She caught his eye and he promised her he could help take care of you in ways she never could, offering countless opportunities your mother only dreamt about. They married shortly thereafter, and he adopted you. The last twenty-two years have been uphill for you, thanks to your intelligence and ambition, but his money has opened lots of doors, too.”

“Does my mother know?” Felicity asked, hoping at least some of the weight could be lifted off her chest.

“No, she has no idea. All the trails of his work for The Syndicate get cleaned up by the others, so she’s never come across anything. She is safe for the time being.”

“What do you mean, for the time being?” Felicity thought about her mother. She was an innocent wife, someone who didn’t need to get involved with this.

“No one involved with The Syndicate is safe. Anyone who comes into contact with them is somehow marked. They have no regard for human life, even within the organization itself.”

“What am I supposed to do? You said yourself that there’s no evidence as to what exactly he’s involved in.”

“Let him recruit you. You are entering the world of international politics; The Syndicate wouldn’t have anything against having you as their pawn. It will require an impressive amount of courage, but we have faith in you.”

Felicity had been anxious to find out what she was being dragged into. She wondered how much more Agent Sullivan would reveal to her.

“I’m not sure I have enough faith in myself. I don’t really know what to think. Plus, my stepfather kept his work pretty far away from me. I’m sure he’s not going to coincidentally let me get close to him — especially after all this time.”

“Yes,” Agent Sullivan said, “but The Syndicate has had difficulties infiltrating certain political circles. You could be an attractive asset. I’m sorry, Felicity. I know it must be quite a shock, but contacting you before they did was crucial to the NBS. We’ve taken care of your absence at the conference; it will have no effect on you.”

Felicity tried making sense of this new information, attempting to reconcile what she’d just learned with the man she thought she knew. She was about to ask what her role would be when the man she recognized from the airplane joined the conversation.

“Well, I guess now I know why I’m here,” Paul said. “I know plenty of criminals; my bar’s full of them. But they’re mostly petty con artists.”

“Paul Leclerc,” Agent Sullivan announced. “Let’s now turn to you. Twenty-seven years old. Former sailor. Now owning a bar in Marseilles. Has been quite successful because of his brilliant memory. Never forgets a name, face, or conversation.”

“You left out the part about gambling.” Paul smiled. “Once a crook, always a crook.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Agent Sullivan continued. “You managed to earn quite a bit of money counting cards during those years you spent on ships, stowing it away for the time when you could quit and open up your own bar. You saved part of it for your sister and the rest you put into alcohol, like a true seaman.”

Paul had known a life on ships wasn’t for him, but he also saw it as a way to make money around the clock. Plus, he gotten to see a lot of different cities and meet a lot of different people, each with their own unique story to tell. Now he knew how to listen, which made standing behind a bar and letting people pour out their secrets after a couple of whiskies child’s play. Despite his rough air, his good looks and humble charm made no one doubt his innocence.

“The Syndicate uses Marseilles as a port as well. Some of their men frequent your bar. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble finding out what they’re importing.”

“Or exporting,” Paul added. He shrugged. “As long as there is something in it for me, I’m game.”

Agent Sullivan smiled. He liked Paul’s demeanor. Having done Paul’s background check personally, Agent Sullivan knew he was a good candidate. He was the complete package. He had the physical capacity as well as the emotional intelligence. Paul could be shaped into a very useful agent.

“What connection do I have to this Syndicate you are talking about?” Jian interrupted. “Why did you contact me?” Agent Sullivan could tell Jian’s question was genuine.

“We contacted you, Jian Zhang, because of your cousin, Hai. The Syndicate has had an off-and-on relationship with The Triad, a Chinese-supported criminal organization spanning the globe. Over the past couple years your cousin has been working up the ladder, becoming somewhat of a middleman between The Triad and The Syndicate. He’s done them several favors recently and walked away with quite large chunks of money.”

“Hai has despised me ever since I took over my parent’s business,” Jian explained. “He wanted it. He thought it was supposed to be his destiny.”

“Apparently he’s moving on to bigger and better things.”

“Six months ago he approached me about becoming business partners. He said he was considering letting me in on a new deal.”

“We need to get as much information out of him before he’s eliminated.”

“He’s my cousin. He’s family. I will not be involved in his death.”

“You don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

Jian’s lips narrowed as his brow furrowed. “I’m not going to risk my family’s business and their safety just because my cousin in on your list. If you’ve found out this much about him, I’m sure you can do it without me.”

“It’s the same in your case as it is in everyone else’s. The Syndicate doesn’t like outsiders. They make the first move. Always. Hai is taking over for you while you are here with your wife. When you return you can mention the offer again, he won’t say no.”

“How do you know?” Jian asked.

“Hai wants to get his hands on as much money as possible. That’s how The Syndicate lured him in in the first place. He’ll go anywhere he sees dollar signs.”

Jian knew this to be true. His real love was art and he wanted to pursue a career in it, but seeing how eager Hai had been to take over his family’s dumpling restaurant chain made him uneasy about not following in his father’s footsteps. They’d worked so hard to build up their franchise in America. It’d been a dream come true for them. Jian was shocked when they announced their planned return to China. He’d already fallen in love with Agnieszka and wanted to stay with her in the United States.

“How will he know he can trust me?”

“He won’t. He’ll keep track of you. But you’ll learn to cover your tracks and outsmart him. You’ll be fully trained as an agent.”

Jian remained silent. He imagined how his life would change, how it would affect Agnieszka. He thought about a life pretending to be a businessman, but secretly becoming an agent, and getting even with his cousin and saving the world from the likes of him.

Agent Sullivan shifted his focus to Leah. “That leaves us with you, Dr. Carlsson.”

“Lucky me,” she said, not even bothering to look up at him.

“Leah Carlsson, Ph.D., twenty-eight, Stockholm University mathematics professor by day, code-building genius by night. Her security systems are in place around the world and The Syndicate has used her work as a starting point for their latest programs. We’re hoping, Leah, that you’ll take a look at what they’ve done and help us get a lead on them. University administration has been informed that you’re assisting on more pressing matters at the moment.”

“How kind of you,” she said coolly. She had already made up her mind about the NBS. Any organization willing to basically kidnap its recruits in the name of justice couldn’t be trusted. Knowing they’d also contacted her bosses and created a cover for her absence was also disconcerting, but she was willing to play along anyway, to contain the damage done to her work.

“Right now you are in the NBS headquarters in London,” Agent Sullivan explained. “This is where we bring all our new recruits. We have facilities around the world, in each country that supports us in bringing down The Syndicate, a corrupt organization that keeps countries in a perpetual state of war with one another as a way to profit from selling weapons — virtual and real ones — while simultaneously offering protection. They have their own agents in place all over the world and they’re becoming increasingly harder to find. You’ll spend the next two weeks in training. Outside this building you are requested to keep a low profile and not to stir up any suspicion. For those who are expected elsewhere soon, we are providing a plausible cover story. Inside this building is a different story. You’ll dedicate yourself to the NBS, engaging yourself for our cause: to bring down The Syndicate wherever they are, everywhere they are. During your training you’ll learn to deceive those around you, to take your current identity and make it a shell for your life as an agent. You will be shown how to shadow, how to spy, and how to avoid surveillance. You’ll be shown the latest advancements in technology and how to use them to obtain secrets. You will also” — he paused for a moment — “learn to defend yourself, both with a weapon and without. We have a complete weapons training facility where you’ll learn to operate everything from a simple lock-and-load to a grenade launcher, though most of you hopefully won’t need to. Agent Campbell will show you the different training rooms. She’ll also be supervising your training. Some of you will spend more time in some rooms than in others, but be careful not to neglect any.”

Nick sat up, curious at the mention of firearms. He was familiar with the standard pistols he’d had over the years on the squad, but knew there were far more sophisticated weapons out there. He was ready to get his hands on something special. He turned to see a striking woman enter the room. He recognized her voice the moment she spoke. She was the voice on his tablet.

“Do you have any preference, sir?” she asked Agent Sullivan as he lifted the files off of the table, placing them into her arms.

“Start in the weaponry and combat wing.” He turned and nodded his head towards the recruits. “I’ll see each of you tomorrow,” he said before exiting the room.

Agent Campbell approached the table. “All right then, follow me.”

***

The London station prided itself as being the home of new recruits. Three wings complete with fully equipped rooms for the sole purpose of sharpening agents’ skills. Agent Sullivan took special care when forming teams and sending agents out into the field on assignments. Sometimes it would be months or years before an agent would hear from him. They had to report to satellite stations each year for follow-up training, during which Agent Sullivan could remotely access surveillance cameras to monitor their progress if needed. London’s headquarters, however, were inaccessible from these other stations.

Agent Campbell led them down a concrete corridor. As they approached a large door, the sounds of muffled guns shots from inside grew louder. She opened the door, leading them to the inside shooting range. Half of the room was constructed to resemble realistic circumstances. Several vehicles and the façade of a house were accentuated with strategically placed statuettes. The opposite wall was lined with metallic silhouettes for target practice.

“Can I give it a go?” Nick asked, eager to show off his skills.

“By all means,” Agent Campbell replied. She liked his enthusiasm.

Nick stepped up to the plate and Agent Campbell signaled for someone to bring him a pistol in a holster. Nick fastened it to his body and placed the mask over his eyes. At the sound of Agent Campbell’s voice, he pulled the pistol from the holster, holding it in front of him, his arm unwavering as he emptied the clip on the target. “Holster!” she yelled, prompting him to place the pistol at his side. The sheet slid forward on its track to reveal every bullet hole having landed in the center of the target.

“Not bad,” Agent Campbell noted. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“Cape Town. I graduated at the top of my training squad. Did Agent Sullivan fail to mention that?”

“I guess he did.” Agent Campbell hadn’t had time yet to study the files on her new trainees in depth. Apart from that, there were certainly facts about Nick Agent Sullivan wouldn’t tell her. Though she was an NBS agent herself, she wasn’t privy to all the information that made its way through the building. The NBS had a clear hierarchy and she was aware there were some things she would never know. Apart from that, she had a job to do, and needed to do it fast, so she didn’t waste any more thoughts about it. “Let me show you the rest of the facility before it’s time for you all to leave. The rest of you will have a chance to shoot tomorrow.”

Next to the weapons room was a large room lined with thick, blue mats. Several punching bags hung from the ceiling and off to one side were rows of padding, helmets, and small, handheld weapons.

“Here you’ll train in physical combat and maneuvers: basic self-defense, disarming and pinning your attacker, rendering an attacker unconscious, as well as actively disabling your opponent.”

“You mean beating the shit out of him?” Paul asked.

Leah let out a soft grunt of disapproval. “Anything past self-defense is no longer self-defense. Didn’t your mom teach you anything?”

Paul’s eyes lit with anger. He was sure she didn’t want to take responsibility for those words. “You wanna take a shot, blondie?”

“No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“I’ll go.” It was Eliska. “Show me what you’ve got,” she said, giving Paul a thin smile.

Agent Campbell pulled a rubber pistol off the shelf and handed it to Eliska. “Take it easy on him.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Paul quipped. “Worry about her.”

Eliska held the gun at Paul’s chest, pressing it lightly into his shirt. In one swift blow he swung his right arm forward, grabbing her lower arm and bending her wrist towards her torso with his left hand. She crippled under his strength. Falling backwards, she dropped the gun onto the mat.

“Where did you learn that move?” she asked, panting as she stood to her feet.

“You like it? I’ve got several more.”

“Show me.” Eliska picked up the gun again and took a step closer to Paul.

“Real training begins tomorrow,” Agent Campbell interrupted. “Let’s go.”

“No, no. One more.” Eliska was ready. Since moving to America as a kid, she’d been in countless fights. Most during her teenage years, but they’d taught her valuable lessons when it came to surviving on the streets.

Before Paul’s arm was fully extended, Eliska ducked, dodging the fist that was headed towards her face. She threw her right shoulder into his gut and sent her left elbow to his face. It landed directly between his upper lip and nose. Paul dropped to his knees.

“He’s okay. Don’t worry. He’ll get up.” Eliska didn’t bother to look at him.

“Fair enough,” Paul said, rising to his feet. He checked his nose for blood. He was lucky.

“Enough?” Agent Campbell asked, unamused. “Let’s move to another wing.”

***

“Is this where the women spend most of their time?” Felicity asked wryly, looking around. The corridor was lined with open doors that revealed rooms divided down the middle by rows of mirrors.

“Not quite,” Agent Campbell replied.

“Here we have our training for covert assignments,” she continued. “You’ll not only dress the part but become the part. At each station you can select the country and culture of your assignment’s location. Everything from wigs and clothing to maps and linguistic training can be acquired in this wing. Ultimately your goal as an agent is to blend in seamlessly, confidently adopting any role. We’ll train you to make your transitions smooth as well.”

The recruits followed Agent Campbell into an empty room, watching her intently as she sat in front of a mirror. As she tapped on its surface, it went black. A map appeared and she zoomed in on Germany. “Berlin,” Agent Campbell stated, “female, thirty years old.” Agent Campbell scanned her agent ID. “Once you become an agent we take a complete 3-D body scan so each disguise can be fully tailored.” The map faded to black once more before revealing a photo of Agent Campbell in disguise. “This was my identity in Berlin, Jana Fink. Every detail is in the file: name, occupation, marital status. Complete social engineering. Everything you need to know while on-site. We have earpieces with simultaneous translators built in, but a basic level of passive and active linguistic training must be completed as well. Most assignments don’t require you to assume an identity for an extended period of time, but no matter how long they are, they have to be executed flawlessly. Even if you are playing yourself.” Agent Campbell had spent more time off than field than on the field in recent years and was beginning to forget what it felt like to be someone else. She appreciated Agent Sullivan trusting her so much with new recruits, but she was eager to given an assignment again. She felt her skills starting to get rusty.

“What’s behind door number three?” Leah asked. “We’re almost done, I assume?”

“Your territory, actually. The final wing contains our intelligence rooms. There we try to locate The Syndicate’s activity, so we can track it in the hopes we can predict their agents’ next moves.”

“Now we’re talking.” It was the first time Leah had shown any positive reaction towards NBS. Her words caught even her by surprise.

Blue lights shone on the walls, which were lined with high-definition screens displaying news reports and real-time surveillance videos, as well as live updates from NBS stations around the globe. Over a dozen men and women sat at computers, gathering information, and scanning data. A large table with a screen embedded in its surface stood in the middle of the room. Agent Campbell slid her palm across the glass top and the central monitor switched on to display a satellite overview of London. “This device allows you to find the layout of any building in any city, worldwide,” she said. Swiping her hand across the map, a 3-D grid of a skyscraper appeared. She zoomed in and out, through the walls, revealing the complete structure of the building. “It’s the best way to develop entrance and exit strategies.” As she swiped her hand again, the map zoomed out, displaying the entire continent. She tapped on France and data started scrolling across the screen.

“Recognize these?” she asked, turning to Leah.

“RATs,” Leah answered. “Remote Access Trojans. You can send them on an endless search across the Internet for anything from a name to a numerical sequence.”

“That’s right,” Agent Campbell said. “Credit cards, rental cars, airline tickets; they turn you into Hansel and Gretel in the digital forest. Unfortunately, The Syndicate is getting better at training their agents to clean up after themselves.”

Paul spoke up. “Show me how it works. Put in my name.”

Agent Campbell entered his information on the screen. Seconds later, an image appeared. It was a newspaper article about the grand opening of Paul’s bar.

“Can you dig a little deeper?” Felicity asked.

“Why don’t we enter your name then?” Paul snapped.

Agent Campbell gave Felicity a disarming smile. “Each search can be narrowed down by inquiry or location, but then you run the risk of missing out on something just outside your search radius.”

“Impressive setup. These are very highly advanced routines, cutting-edge stuff.” Leah was curious to know what else the system was capable of doing.

“You’ll be comfortable with it in no time. You can all start tomorrow.”

“So we’re free to go?” Jian asked. He knew Agnieszka would be getting back to the hotel soon and he wanted to call her.

“You each have rooms at the Darlington House. Your luggage has already been delivered. Inside you’ll find a letter with the address where you’ll be picked up tomorrow morning. I suggest having a drink and getting some rest; you’ve had a long day, and tomorrow will be just as intense.”

“Sounds good to me. I’m out of here,” Paul said, turning around in time to see Leah walking out the door.

“I guess someone’s got somewhere important to be,” Paul added.

“And it’s apparently not with us,” Eliska said, rolling her eyes.

Agent Campbell noticed Felicity’s eyes still fixed on the monitors as the other recruits left the room.

“Miss Wilson, you’re free to go now.”

“Yeah, sorry. I was just …” Felicity hesitated. “I was trying to make sense of the technology and the programs. I guess you could search for —”

Agent Campbell cut her off. “The technology helps NBS agents track The Syndicate’s operations.”

“Right.” Felicity remained unnerved by Agent Campbell’s tone. “OK, I’m going to go now. See you tomorrow,” she said as she left the room.

“Good night, Miss Wilson,” Agent Campbell replied.

***

Back in his office Agent Sullivan was reviewing the files of his new recruits once more. He knew the dangers of putting together a mismatched team; he’d been part of one himself when he joined the NBS. But he felt confident about his selections, unhampered by the need to beat back doubts. Most candidates responded well to the incentive of using their skills for a worthy cause. He had preemptive measures in place in case any of the recruits refused to join, but that scenario rarely happened.

He heard a knock on the window and looked up to see Agent Campbell standing on the other side of the glass.

“Come in,” Sullivan said.

“They’ve returned to the Darlington House for the evening. They know they’ll be picked up again in the morning.”

“Good. Any thoughts on the new recruits?”

Agent Campbell had grown to hate this question. Not once had Agent Sullivan seemed to actually listen to anything she had to say. She didn’t know why he bothered to ask her anything at all. To him she was just a secretary. “Dr. Carlsson doesn’t seem too interested in becoming a team player. Nick likes guns and Eliska can fight. I’m not sure about Felicity. What do you think she has to offer? The information in her file was rather limited.”

“At the moment, nothing. But she will. I’m sure she’ll prove to be a very fine agent.”

Agent Campbell knew that was his standard answer. “All NBS agents have a role to play in bringing down The Syndicate,” she replied. She knew he liked hearing her assert her commitment to the NBS.

“That’s right, Agent Campbell.” He smiled at her and she couldn’t tell if his tone was deferential or if he genuinely respected her.

“Yes, sir. Do you need anything else?”

“No, that’s okay. I’m going to stay here and finish going over a few things. You can go home and enjoy a nice glass of wine.”

“Good night, sir.” Agent Campbell smiled politely, turned, and walked out the door.

***

Leah entered her room and turned on the light. She saw her suitcase lying on the bed. Just like Agent Campbell said